


A Winchester's Guide to True Feelings

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Carpe Diem, Cold, Denial of Feelings, Dreams and Nightmares, Fluff, Grace Bonds, Hallucinations, Happy Ending, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Limbo, M/M, Making Out, Protective Gabriel, Recovered Memories, Resurrection, Romance, Supernatural Rare OTP Fic-a-Month Challenge, Temporary Amnesia, Temporary Character Death, Winter, h/c_bingo amnesty, trapped between realities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 23:07:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3267725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s stuck and Gabriel is the only one who can get him out. Too bad it’s gonna involve some chick flick moments and something Gabriel calls “true feelings."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Winchester's Guide to True Feelings

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SPN Rare OTP Fic-a-Month Challenge for January’s prompt of ‘winter/cold.’ 
> 
> Also written for h/c_bingo during amnesty for the prompt ‘trapped between realities.’

Dean hated the cold. That uncomfortable feeling of weariness in his bones that came about only on hunts gripped him with no warning or remorse, that unshakable sense of vulnerability as he wrapped his hands around his arms and tried to make himself smaller, so that the deathly chill would find less of him to attack and inflict damage upon. His teeth would chatter and his fingers and toes would start to grow numb, and no amount of hoodies or socks could take that icy feeling away completely.

Heat he could deal with, he could strip off his clothes and lay out on the hood of his baby and tan. He could dive into a pool or some lake and come back up to the surface feeling refreshed and awake again.

But the cold... there was nothing you could do to escape that. It clutched at you like death’s claws and laughed at you as your lips started to turn blue.

Unfortunately, the face of his own personal grim reaper was horrifyingly familiar when he woke up with a kink in his neck and his limbs trembling from cold, staring up into hard amber eyes. The color of those eyes and the heat of that gaze should have given him something, some degree of warmth or even reassurance that he wasn’t freezing to death in some piece of shit motel room. But there was nothing like that in them, only a wicked gleam that told Dean that this cold was all the archangel’s doing.

He was in Florida for fuck’s sake, if memory served him correctly. It didn’t get cold in Florida.

“Gabriel,” he gritted out between clenched teeth, clenched because he was trying to stop them from chattering. He’d be damned if he showed Gabriel anymore vulnerability, any idea that he was the slightest bit uncomfortable. The dick was supposed to be dead and gone, but here he was, up to no good again. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He sneezed, damn cold! His hair felt wet and he figured Gabriel must have dunked his head in ice water or something. Payback for Dean letting him die, payback for Dean convincing Gabriel to do the right thing and stand up to his family, which resulted in him getting killed.

Sure, Dean had felt bad about it. But maybe the world was better off without Gabriel anyway.

“What's wrong with a little cold?” Gabriel asked, as if it was the most reasonable question in the world.

“A little cold?” Dean trembled harder, feeling fortunate that at least he was clothed in jeans and a long sleeved shirt. If Gabriel had stripped him of his clothes he would be a lot worse off, not to mention how freaking embarrassing that would be, considering how Gabriel’s eyes roamed over him now, like he was some sort of prize.

“Ah, so it is bothering you. It’s hard to tell sometimes, you know, with you being such a glutton for punishment and all.”

Dean closed his eyes tightly, trying to make the cold and the fear of Gabriel go away. If Gabriel was back then he could do anything, more importantly he could do anything to _him_. And if Dean thought that this was the worst he could dish out, then he was sadly mistaken. Still, he wasn’t gonna go down without a fight. When he opened his eyes again, Gabriel was no longer hovering over him, dark shadow seeming to stretch on for miles, but he was sprawled out in an armchair, watching Dean lazily.

“Come on,” the archangel grinned even more lazily, as if this were all some sort of game. A game that Dean had found himself stuck in yet again. “Get your ass over here so I can warm you up.”

 _What the fuck?_ Was this some sort of mind game? Dean started shaking again even though the cold wasn't quite there anymore; yes, he was still cold but Gabriel no longer seemed to hold sway over the temperature of the room, for reasons unknown. He trembled harder when Gabriel made a move to leave the armchair, racked with confusion, frustration and panic. He could move his arms and legs well enough, but leaving the softness of the bed was another matter entirely. He was too comfortable, and he seemed to be stuck in a sort of lethargy; every time he moved it only seemed to be an inch, and five minutes later Dean was no closer to exiting the bed.

Dammit, what had Gabriel drugged him with?

Dean curled in on himself and put his hands over his face, trying to will this world away. But the harder he tried the more frequently he shifted to another world, one where he was drowning. He was in a lake somewhere, blood seeping out of his side and leg, trying to hold himself above the surface and losing strength by the minute. He screamed for Sam and spluttered out water, trying to keep his head above the water. However long it must’ve been, five minutes, ten minutes, it all felt like ten years, the cold biting into his skin and burying deep, prickling sharply at his face, making him lose control of his limbs. Eventually, his body gave up the fight and he sank further down into the water’s icy depths. There was no point if he could no longer move his legs, no way he could keep on while he was lulled by unconsciousness to succumb to exhaustion and his injuries.

When he opened his eyes again he snapped back to whatever dream Gabriel had placed him in. He knew that that was what it was now, just a dream, another one of Gabriel’s alternate realities. That last hunt had taken his life, and that was that. There was no going back.

He removed his hands from where they were wrapped around his arms and honed in on Gabriel, who took Dean’s hands without pause and started to run warmth back into his tingling fingers. Dean jumped as he felt life once more returning to his more numb than he’d like body. He didn’t even shove Gabriel away, too grateful to dare. “I'm dead. That's why it's so freaking cold.”

Gabriel glanced up at him but didn’t respond, as if content to merely work on his fingers. The tingling was painful at first, making him wince, but Gabriel’s grace must have had a hand in speeding up the healing process because it didn’t go on for more than a few minutes. When Gabriel was finished he looked up at Dean, and the hunter recoiled when he noticed the haunted look in the archangel’s eyes. There was regret and grief there, but there was also hope, strangely enough. Gabriel lowered his gaze but Dean couldn’t look away this time, he barely even felt it when Gabriel rubbed a hand up and down his arm. There was warmth there that Dean hadn't expected. This was an abrupt change at what Gabriel had been like earlier.

“You're in limbo. I'm afraid it's my fault, actually. Tying my grace to your soul resulted in... complications. Leaves you stuck between worlds.” There was a brief pause to let that sink into Dean’s head. “Literally. ”

Dean didn't care, he didn't care about anything anymore. He just wanted to get back. He had to get back to Sammy, protecting him was his job. He didn’t have time to be dancing off into the sunset with an archangel who was supposed to be dead. He didn’t have time for this! Gabriel, sensing his anger, removed his hand before Dean could shove it away.

“Thought you were dead. You were dead!” Dean demanded, as if there was anything Gabriel could do about that. This could be heaven, Dean thought, but he suspected that he and Gabriel didn’t quite share a heaven. Gabriel had given him the cold shoulder more than once, and Dean had made sure not to show even the slightest bit of interest, knowing it would be as unwelcome to Gabriel as Gabriel’s antics were to him and Sam.

Gabriel shrugged, one hand squeezing his shoulder and the other running through Dean's hair, as if trying to lull him to sleep. And Dean was tired, tired of everything, physically tired in a way he'd never been before. This last hunt had drained him, he could feel it. But he couldn’t fall asleep and wake up to yet another version of Gabriel, probably a homicidal one the next time.

“I'm dead,” Dean repeated, starting to feel numb again, voice dropping to a near whisper.

Gabriel tsked, pacing the room but never straying far from Dean. The hunter didn’t know whether to feel repulsed or flattered. “Not quite. I can bring you back.” Back from the dead, Dean thought, both horror and relief fighting for greater hold over him. Neither seemed ideal. “But I need you to do something for me first.”

“Figures,” Dean snorted. He screamed at himself to push Gabriel away but only succeeded in burying his head against the archangel's chest when he bent down next to Dean again, eyes boring into Dean’s soul.

“I need you to feel something for me. This bond works both ways, Dean. I was able to mojo it up without me knowing your true feelings, but for me to be able to do something for you, to bring you back, you have to reciprocate my... feelings.” There was a long pause then, Dean staring at the nearest pillow in intense concentration. _Feelings? What the hell was that supposed to mean?_ Gabriel gave up when he wouldn’t respond. What was Dean supposed to say anyway? “Jeez,” Gabriel sighed. “I hate these chick flick moments as much as you do.” Dean looked up, his eyebrows raised. “I’m losing my grip on you, Dean, as each minute passes. You’ll forget we had this conversation by the next time you wake up. Because of that,” he got up on the bed and straddled Dean. “You’re going to have to make the decision now. He put a hand on Dean’s cheek, “I can’t risk losing you again, little one.”

Dean brushed off the awkward term of endearment, if that was what it was. Some things were better left ignored. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Gabriel?”

“Arousing you,” Gabriel responded excitedly, and when Dean looked down the archangel was no longer wearing pants, just a pair of boxers with small red and pink hearts all over them. Dean’s eyes widened and he thrashed wildly when Gabriel bent down to kiss him, but Gabriel’s grip on him was fierce and his mouth on his an all-consuming fire. Dean could hardly pull away anymore than he could deny those feelings at the back of his mind that he had always had for Gabriel. He stopped thrashing and relaxed back into the mattress.

Luckily, this was all a dream. And maybe he wouldn’t remember it when he woke up.

But something told Dean that this wouldn’t be so easy to forget.

“Okay, okay,” he moaned against Gabriel’s mouth until the archangel finally released him. “I have... feelings or whatever for you. That what you wanted to hear? Can you bring me back now?”

Gabriel’s small smile morphed into a frown. “It’s not enough, Dean. You have to feel it, kiddo. Feel it stronger than anything else in the world.”

“Well, I can’t do that, okay?” Why did Gabriel want this from him anyway? Why did he care? Did he just want to indulge that part of him that would one day brag about the day he had fucked Dean until he was sore, bruised and limping? Did he want to lull Dean into the desire to remain here, free of stress and obligation but trapped nonetheless? “I don’t... feel that way. I don’t love you. Sure you’re hot and all, but if you’re looking for a long-term relationship you’re looking in the wrong place.”

Gabriel stared at him for a moment, intensely might Dean add, before he shook his head. “You’re lying. I remember the way you looked at me, Dean. I wish it had been your face I had seen before I died, not my brother’s. You always meant more to me than I was ever willing to admit.”

Dean’s voice trembled, “Then why are you admitting it now?”

“Because you’re dying! Because it’s the right time, the only time! I want you, Dean. Always have, kiddo. I know it’s selfish but I also know you want me too. Don’t lie to me. We can be selfish together. You and me. I can get you out of this but you have to trust me, you have to let me in, consent to me seeing you. All of you. Why is it so hard to just....?”

 _Love me._ Dean finished for him. _Because it’s hard for me to imagine anybody loving me. Especially you._ By the look on Gabriel’s face, Dean knew the archangel had just read his mind. Maybe that was the first step of letting him in. Not that Dean really wanted to let him in, that was creepy, but it was the only shot he had, right?

They hadn’t gone the next step yet; Dean was still fully clothed and Gabriel was miraculously still wearing a shirt. Not that Dean would actually mind seeing him shirtless, but right now he definitely had more pressing things to worry about. Like the fact that Gabriel said he had tied himself to Dean. Whatever completely out of place sexual attraction he had felt towards Gabriel in the past few minutes, it was just as quickly washed down the toilet.

“What about the whole tying thing?”

Gabriel looked confused for a moment before his eyes lit up in glee. “Oh, you mean that. Well, when I was resurrected by whoever, whatever, doesn’t really matter now, after all, why dwell on the past? It kinda make me think about the whole carpe diem thing again. You know, seize the day. So I came after you, and just in time too. You really were dead, Dean-o. But I pulled you back.” He tweaked Dean’s nose and Dean growled. “Lucky for you, you’ve got an archangel on your side.”

“Yeah, and a damn annoying one at that.” He had no clue what Gabriel had to gain by “bonding” with him, but Dean suspected it was nothing good. If Gabriel wanted him to be some sort of pet or slave... and by the distraught look on Gabriel’s face he was reading his mind... again.

“I linked my grace to your soul because it was the only way I knew how to protect you. Until I revealed myself that is. If you’re that stressed about it I can remove it, but I’ll leave you to make that big decision later.” Dean watched the archangel carefully as he avoided eye-contact, and it didn’t take much to see that Gabriel feared rejection. It was what Dean had always felt, from nearly everyone in his life, so he recognized it as clear as day. He didn’t want to reject Gabriel though, and if he ever did it would be a result of his refusal to let himself have happiness, not so much from a belief that Gabriel would trick him in some way. He was surprised to hear himself think that, but there were a lot of shocking twists happening today.

Gabriel seemed amused by his thoughts, and as angry as Dean was by that it was a whole lot better than seeing Gabriel all depressed and guilty and completely not himself. “You’ve got your moments too, Dean. Though, you’re much more cute than annoying.”

“Shut up.” Gabriel captured his mouth in a kiss again, almost before Dean had finished his retort. Dean felt that same arousal spark up again, too quickly for him to tamper down. Gabriel was pressed up too tightly against him and Dean wouldn’t refuse him, just as he wouldn’t have refused him months before. The archangel’s death was still a raw source of discomfort in his mind, and the fact that Gabriel had come back for him was almost way too much to comprehend.

Until Gabriel’s hands gripped his waist hard enough to leave bruises, then he just thought about all the ways Gabriel could warm him up.

“Okay,” Dean leaned into Gabriel’s next kiss, but didn’t kiss back, suddenly out of breath and feeling dizzy. “But this is... this whole link thing is fucked up, Gabriel. You’ve gotta....”

“Make it up to you,” Gabriel mouthed against his neck. “And I will, Dean-o. Believe me. If I could tell you all the ways. You’re gonna regret this, because I am never gonna let you out of my sight again. Capiche?”

Dean smiled, surprised to find himself already writhing under Gabriel’s careful, amazingly heated fingers. Gabriel was toying with him so effortlessly, planting kisses along his chest, trailing his tongue underneath the waistband of Dean’s low-hanging jeans. He was driving Dean crazy, absolutely fucking crazy and he couldn’t breathe anymore, fingers digging into Gabriel’s skin to ground him.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, Gabriel stopped moving. “Think we should continue this another time. Tiger,” he added, and Dean came back to himself again. “By the next dream I could lose you, and that I won’t accept.” Gabriel pulled himself up and planted a kiss on Dean’s head, and the hunter found that he loved it as much as he did Gabriel’s hands running all over his body.

“What about that first vision?”

“Your initial opinion of me,” Gabriel replied without hesitation. He sighed and sat up, and Dean felt like he was intruding on something he shouldn’t be. Even if Gabriel was talking about his own mind. “Well, not the initial one. Just the one when you realized I was a dick.” He leaned over Dean again, eyes clouded with worry. “You think I could hurt you.” He shook his head, hand running through Dean’s hair, preventing him from slipping away again. He could feel the next reality coming, could feel Gabriel being sucked away from him the more time he spent here, in his own head, in Gabriel’s warped vision of some erotic dream. “I wouldn’t.”

“I know. I trust you, Gabriel.”

“Thanks, kiddo.” Gabriel pressed a small kiss to the tip of Dean’s nose and Dean felt himself sinking down, felt the water engulf him again, the cold biting into his bones. There were wings surrounding him, twitching, soft wings that pulled him upward, not even straining slightly with the weight of him. When he reached the surface again he gasped for air, coughing profusely, gagging, trying not to throw up on Gabriel. The archangel smacked his back reassuringly until he could breathe again, then snapped his fingers and transported them to the shore, helping Dean to his feet.

Dean felt something wet and cold falling on his face. He looked up and his mouth dropped open as he realized that it was snowing. He caught several flakes in his palm, watching them disintegrate into his skin.

Gabriel poked his side, and with a snap of his fingers Dean was soon bundled up in a winter coat. He looked down at his hands and saw gloves, and a new set of dry boots had replaced the soaking wet ones. He was relatively dry too, and while the snow certainly wouldn’t help his mood any, he did still kinda like tasting the flakes on his tongue, not to mention the amazing sunrise playing out before him. “Sick of the cold, Dean?”

“Dick,” Dean mumbled under his breath. Still, he was Dean’s dick. The hunter ducked his head down, trying and failing to suppress a smile as Gabriel’s first snowball smacked him in the side of the face. Maybe a winter in Florida spent with a trouble making archangel wouldn’t be so bad after all. As long as that archangel agreed to warm him up afterward.

FIN


End file.
